


As We Who Are Left Grow Old

by SeverEstHolmes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other, Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverEstHolmes/pseuds/SeverEstHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming to terms with War isn't easy - especially as it's Ron trying to explain a muggle war to Hugo and Lily!<br/>(Almost a bit of a tribute to those who died in World War One).</p>
            </blockquote>





	As We Who Are Left Grow Old

**Author's Note:**

> This kind of came about through a prompt about human made disasters - but it didn't really fit... However I thought it might be fitting seeing as WW1 began 100 years ago.

"How are  _we_  going to be able to explain to Hugo and Lily about the effects of World War Two?" Ron was sat at the small dining room table in the middle of his kitchen, reading over his son's homework assignment. "It's not like I can actually tell him anything about it apart from when it was."

"Are you forgetting who your wife is Ron?" Harry chuckled, taking the sheet of paper out of Ron's hand. "Hermione will help us!"

"What was that I'm being roped into help with?" Hermione's voice called out from through the house.

"Hugo and Lily's homework project!" Harry responded, Hermione entered the kitchen followed by Ginny, and the two girls sat down at the table.

"Oh  _that,_ yeah, they're reading through some of the books that I helped them find in the library just now." She told them, "It's not like it's very difficult – they've just to pick one aspect of World War Two and create a project on it."

"Might not be difficult for you, but I don't know anything about muggle history." Ron retorted, "I never had to learn about it when I was a kid."

"Maybe you didn't, but Harry and I both went to muggle primary schools and we both had to learn about it." She said, indicating towards Harry who was looking slightly worried.

"Yeah, I mean, I know the basics…" Harry muttered, concerned that he was about to be questioned about a subject he had been taught over twenty-five years ago.

"It all depends on what they choose to write their project on." Ginny pointed out, "Once they've decided their topic, then we can figure out how to help next."

It did seem slightly amusing to Hermione that when their kids had been set projects such as this– like when Rose had to find out about the life and works of William Shakespeare – it was a reminder about how little Ron actually knew about muggle history and culture; quite often he and Ginny ended up learning just as much as their kids. Ron's first response to these kinds of projects was that Hugo and Rose could just do the bare minimum for them, because it didn't really matter to them – they wouldn't need to know all of that when they went to they wouldn't need to know all of that when they went to Hogwarts. To that response, Hermione could have throttled him, she reminded him very forcibly that muggle history was just as important as wizarding history, and that years of ignoring it had only created ignorance among wizards. And she wasn't going to allow that to perpetuate into the next generation.

Several days later Hermione was flicking through the pages of what Hugo had written so far, he had decided – eventually – that Lily and him were going to write about the allied soldiers of the War. When he first made that decision he had been sitting at the table reading one of his library books and he asked: "Uncle Fred was a soldier, wasn't he?"

"He was of sorts, yeah." She agreed slowly.

"Good." He had settled back down to reading again, then he piped up once more. "I thought that I could dedicate this project to him."

"That would be really nice Hugo… how did you come up with that idea?" She inquired.

"Oh Uncle Harry suggested it to Lily, and she told me, so we thought we both might do it, apparently it might make dad and Aunty Ginny happy." He picked up his pencil and began to write, Hermione just stared at him for a few seconds before returning to her cooking. So Lily and him had been working on what life had been like for the allied soldiers, in the trenches, during the fighting, and what happened when they returned back to civilian life… and their work was very good – it was precise, it had the facts, but there was just something missing and Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on what it was… For some reason, even though Hugo had listed the numbers of soldiers that had died in many of the offensive battles, it just didn't feel very personal… like there was a lack of understanding behind what those numbers actually meant…

The early morning sun had just begun to show the first rays of light upon the east side of the white bricked houses; a very fine mist still hung in the air before the heat of the day would cause it to evaporate. In the corner of a green field the air rippled with a slight breeze; without warning there was a quiet 'pop' and two huddled figures appeared next to the fence – within a few seconds four more figures had appeared out of thin air, and one of the smaller figures voices' rent the silence.

"But why do we have to come so early?" Hugo moaned, yawning loudly. The two families huddled together next to a fence facing away from the rows of houses.

"It's not too early Hugo." Hermione said quietly, yet the resounding silence from the nearby town and the stillness of the surrounding air seemed to be disagreeing with her.

"It is quite early…" Ron muttered, also stifling a yawn, Hermione shot him a furious look.

"I've read what you've written for your project, and it's right – and the facts are there," Hermione told Hugo and Lily, both of whom smiled at their work being complimented. "I wanted you to understand exactly what it meant for the numbers of soldiers that never came home."

"Where are we?" Lily asked, her teeth were chattering with the cold and she looked worried.

"We are just outside Bayeux in France." Hermione told them. "And just round there," She pointed over to the other edge of the field, where a row of trees obscured anything else from view. "Is Bayeux Cemetery." Both Hugo and Lily looked over in the direction that Hermione had pointed, suddenly looking fearful. "That's why we're here. Come on." She began walking in the direction that she had pointed, followed by Hugo and Lily, both of whom seemed to have put their tiredness behind them. The morning grass was still damp with dew as they trod their way towards the row of trees; passing through a gap in the row of trees, the cemetery came into full view. A giant white stone ballast loomed in the foreground and behind it was hundreds and hundreds of rows of white stone graves. Ginny, Ron and Harry hung back, standing close together, while Hugo, Rose and Hermione wandered for a few minutes in among the grave stones. After what felt like an incredibly long time, Hermione beckoned Hugo and Lily towards her:

"I want you to pick a grave, choose one and stand in front of it." Looking slightly perplexed at this request, the two children did as she asked them to, both selecting a different headstone and standing in front of it. "Now read their names out."

"Henry Hawthorne." Hugo spoke after a few seconds.

"Richard Clayton." Lily's voice quavered slightly as she read out the name inscribed on the white stone.

"Now close your eyes." She waited until she saw that they had both done so. "I want you to picture the soldiers that once had those names..." She began, "Perhaps they were tall, maybe they had dark hair, they might have worn glasses... They were young, probably about the same age as Teddy, or not much older." She was trying to make them imagine more than just the name on the grave. "At home they might have worked in an office, or been a builder, or a teacher..." She spoke slowly, wanting to give them time. "They might have had a girlfriend, or a wife. At home they were happy, they had been safe... but then they were called up to fight." Hugo had crossed his arms across his chest, hugging himself slightly. "They had hopes and dreams, maybe they wanted children, or wanted to get married; but because one man from a different country had decided that he wanted to decide who should live and who should die, they had to come here and fight. When they came to France they probably thought they would be back home in a few months, that they would see their mum and dad again, that they would return to their lives. But they never did..." Hermione could hear Lily sniffing, "They weren't able to say goodbye properly, all that their loved ones received was a letter to say that their son, or their boyfriend, or their dad, was dead... That they would never see them again. Those families would probably never forget the loss of Henry and Richard, they would always remember that they had died alone and frightened, in a strange country, fighting to allow them and all the rest of the people in Europe to be free. They probably were never able to come and see these graves; and once they were gone, who would remember the sacrifice that those soldiers made in order for all of us to be free." Tears were rolling down Lily's face, and she was trembling visibly; Hugo's face, too, was very white. "Open your eyes," Hermione told them. "Every single stone in this cemetery was a person, they all had hopes and dreams, and they were all snuffed out by war. I wanted you to understand that those numbers that you read, the numbers of the soldiers that never came home, were more than just numbers- they were people." Taking a few steps forwards so she was in reaching distance of both her son, and her niece, she put one hand on Hugo's shoulder and the other around Lily's arm, pulling them close towards her so as to try and give them a bit of comfort. They stood in silence for a very long time, simply staring at the gravestones; Lily was crying properly now, Hermione could hear her breathing raggedly, and she kept wiping her face with her sleeve.

"Can... can we just stay here for a little while?" Hugo asked rather subdued, he was not crying, but his face was very serious.

"Of course..." Hermione agreed, she loosened her grip and then turned to stand with Ron, Ginny and Harry. To her slight surprise, Ron was standing with his arm around Ginny, who also seemed to be crying; not wanting to interrupt, Hermione stood next to Harry, who didn't seem to be as affected as the other two. Perhaps he was slightly hardened because of the sheer amount of people that he had known who, like the rows of graves in front of them, had died in defence of what was right.

"That was... that was rather beautiful Hermione." Harry whispered after a moment. "I think what you said has reminded Ginny of Fred..." Hermione nodded.

"Well, it's kind of the same thing, isn't it?" She replied. "Fred, Remus and Tonks, and Moody... all of them died so that we could be free."

The four adults stood in silence, watching the two children; Hugo had put his arm around his cousin. They looked odd, standing in front of the two gravestones, with the rows extending out in front of them. It was a long time before Hugo and Lily made their way back over to their parents; the sun had risen higher in the sky, touching the gravestones and making them cast gentle shadows onto the grass. Hugo stood in front of his mum, staring at his feet before he finally spoke.

"It's sad..." He said eventually. "That all those men had to die..."

"It really is Hugo, it's a tragedy." She agreed.

"And it was all because Hitler decided that he wanted to build a master race?" He asked.

"Yes, all these lives lost because of one man... but they died so that he could be stopped." Hugo seemed to consider something for a moment; he opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again.

"Like Uncle Fred died so that Lord Voldemort could be stopped?"

"Yes Hugo." Hermione answered.

"They were very brave..." He considered, "I hope that they're never forgotten, that would be even more awful."

"It would," She nodded, "It really would." And kneeling down slightly, she hugged her son- with his new found understanding about the horrors, and the tragic loss of life that was caused by war.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
